Emily's Franklin
by Not A Droid
Summary: Emily has a friend she's kept secret from everyone else. His name is Franklin Brewster and he's the only one she tells about Liam Doyle. My entry to the Prentiss Mystery contest. Ch 3 is up.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is going to be a bit of a departure from my usual fics. This is an Emily with an OC. This is also my entry to the Prentiss Mystery Challenge. The events take place in Seasons 5 & 6._

_Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing. Not the characters, not the episodes, not anything.

* * *

_**Chapter 1: Making Promises**

A few days after Emily Prentiss met with Sean, she made a visit to the United States Penitentiary in Lewisbury, PA. She wasn't here in her capacity as an FBI agent. She was here on her own time to visit her friend, Franklin Brewster. Friend wasn't the right term, not really. She wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but Franklin has become dear to her. The moment Sean told her Ian Doyle had escapted, Franklin was the only person she wanted to tell.

After the security pat down, Emily Prentiss walked down the hallway to the visitors area. She sat down in front of the protective glass. After a few minutes, a tall, lean man dressed in an orange jumpsuit came in and sat down across from her. He picked up the phone on his side of the glass, and she picked up hers.

"I wasn't expecting to see you today, Emily. In fact, I wasn't expecting to see you for a few more weeks. This is a pleasant surprise."

She smiled. "Good. I'm glad I could brighten your day."

His eyes narrowed slightly. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but she did.

"What's wrong Emily?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened. Something that bothered you. No, frightened you. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. It's just...I may not see you for a while. Something came up."

"Like an FBI something? Or something else?"

"You remember I used to work at INTERPOL?"

"Yes."

"Well, there was a person I helped capture. A very bad person. He was being held, well, he escaped."

"You're afraid of this person." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Are you going after this person?"

"No. But I may need to go away for a while. He's very dangerous."

"Emily, if anything happens to you..."

"Don't say it."

"If he hurts you, you know what I'll have to do."

"That's why I'm here, to tell you not to."

"No. I will. If he hurts you, I will get out of here and I will find him. I will kill him. You know I will."

"You can't. Promise me, Franklin."

"No."

"Franklin Brewster, look me in the eyes and promise me you won't do any of those things."

"No."

"If you loved me, you would promise me."

"That is just outright manipulative on your part."

"Promise me."

"Fine. I promise I will not kill him."

"Show me your hands."

"What?"

"I want to know you're not crossing your fingers when you promise."

"If the glass wasn't here I would pinkie promise."

"I'll settle for you not crossing your fingers."

"Fine." He wedged the phone between his head and shoulder as he held up both hands with the fingers outstretched where she could see. "I promise that if anything happens to you, I will go after the man who did it. I promise I won't kill him unless I have to. I promise I will not hurt or harm anyone, unless I have to. I promise I will turn him in."

"And?"

"And what?"

"If I die..."

"No. You won't."

"If I die, you have to life well. You have to promise me you won't live in darkness. Promise me."

"I will try.:

"That's not good enough. Promise."

He sighed. "Fine. I promise not to live in darkness. Now, tell me about him."

"Later. I have something else to tell you about."

"What's that?"

"Salsa dancing. I told you I was going. Sit back and I'll tell you all about it."

"Not yet. This man, how bad is he?"

"He's bad. He was in a Russian prison."

"How did he get out."

"I don't know."

"Emily, do you trust your team to help."

"They can't."

"Why not?"

"He'll kill them. He's resourceful. He has no empathy for anyone. He likes hurting people. The IRA exiled him because they were afraid of him."

"Just like you are."

"Yes."

"Does your team know about him?"

"They don't even know about my work for INTERPOL."

"Tell them."

"No."

"Don't be an idiot. They would do anything for you."

"That's why I haven't told them. They will put themselves in harms way. Franklin, you're the only one I've ever told."

"I will never understand why you trust me."

"That's because you're modest. And because he can't get to you in here."

"You better keep writing me. If I stop hearing from you, I'm going to assume you're dead and I'll find him."

"I promise, I'll keep writing you."

"Alright. I promise to stay put till I don't hear from you anymore. So, tell me about Salsa dancing."

* * *

_A/N: Very shortly we learn how Emily and Franklin Brewster met._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: see chapter 1_

_A/N: I want to thanks everyone who has subscribed, reviewed, & selected this as a favorite story. This chapter is going to focus on revealing a little be about our new friend, Franklin Brewster. We also get to spend time with Emily's mother. I will warn everyone there is a little drama at the end of the chapter.

* * *

_**Chapter 2: Who is Franklin Brewster?**

_2 months later_

It wasn't the first time Elizabeth Prentiss visited a prison. In her long career as an Ambassador, she actually visited several in a number of countries in the Middle East, Asia and Europe. She had even visited a few in the United States. This was, however, the first time she was visiting someone in an unofficial capacity.

It was not by choice. However, the letter from her daughter, Emily was quite specific. She needed her mother to tell Franklin Brewster what happened. Emily's letter did not tell the Ambassador who this man, only that he was a friend of Emily's. There was a time when Emily made friends with the wrong crowd, but not since she was a teenager. It was hard to imagine Emily having a friend in a prison. In fact, Emily had never mentioned this Franklin Brewster even once. Who could he be?

Ambassador Prentiss was able to get a file on him, but it didn't make any sense. This man seemed to be a criminal, serving a life-sentence for a variety of crimes. Unless Emily had investigated him, Elizabeth could not imagine how he and Emily would have ever met, and no way the two of them could become friends.

Now she was here in the prison in Lewisburg, PA. She stood facing the tall, lean man in an orange jump suit. They weren't in the usual visiting room. She managed to have them put in a special room, with the guards outside. There were cameras inside the room to monitor the visit, per prison regulations. She looked at this man and said,"I don't know who you are."

"My name is Franklin Brewster, ma'am." He said it with a slight smile.

"I know your name, but I don't know who you are to my daughter."

"You're Emily's mother?"

"Yes."

"The answer to your question is a little complicated. The truth is, I don't understand your daughter's feelings to me at all. I am, however, grateful for her friendship. This is a bit of a surprise, you visiting me. Did Emily send you?"

"She did."

"I actually find that surprising." His eyes narrowed slightly. For a moment, he held his breath.

Elizabeth realized he suspected something was wrong, but he was trying to appear calm. Maybe he and her daughter had more in common than at first glance. Emily tried to always appear calm, too. "I have a letter from her. I'm supposed to give it to you."

"You could probably have just mailed it."

"I suppose. But then I wouldn't know who you were and why she would want you to have it."

"May I have it now?"

"No. Not until you tell me who you are. How she knows you."

He sighed. He closed his eyes and then opened them again. "There was a time I would describe myself as an outlaw. Or say I lived outside the box. The truth is, ma'am, I'm a criminal. I have done a number of illegal activities:drug trafficking, burglary, I've robbed banks, jewelry stores, committed various kinds of fraud. I have to admit to various counts of assault, aggravated assault and yes, even murder. I'm not a good person, Ambassador."

"Are you...are you one of her …." she tried to remember the word.

"Unsubs? No ma'am. But we did meet on a case. I assume you're not going to give me that letter unless you know everything."

"Not even then. I will, however, read it to you once I'm satisfied with your explanation."

He let out a short chuckle, "You are just like her. Very well, she and I met in Philadelphia. She and her team were called to investigate a series of brutal murders."

"And you were a suspect?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, ma'am, I was interviewed by Emily and Dave Rossi. But it wasn't because I fit the profile. Perhaps I should explain that the people being killed weren't the upper crust. In fact, their deaths didn't inspire anything close to vigorous response from the police."

"And why was that?"

"Because they were my kind of people, my friends. They were prostitutes, strippers, junkies, and a few other more unpleasant people. When I saw how little effort the police were putting into finding the killer, I tried to find him."

"Tried?"

"After three days passed and I found another body, I realized how out of my depth I was. I've killed people, Ambassador. I felt I had good reason to at the time, but I never was as brutal as this man was. He made lots of incisions, and pulled out her organs, almost all of them from what I could tell. Then he left out with the trash. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy. I knew it would take someone special to find this maniac."

"If the police didn't care, why were Emily's team brought in?"

"The same way they're ever brought it, they were invited."

"By who?"

"By the police, of course."

"But I thought they didn't care."

"I made them an offer they couldn't refuse."

"I don't understand."

"My criminal activities were quite diverse and extensive. I was one of those people the police and District Attorney's office knows is up to no good, but can never prove it. I also had intimate knowledge of other people they wanted to get. So, I made a deal with the police. If they call in the BAU and catch the killer, I would make a full confession of all my crimes."

"All of them?"

"I would expect no favors. I would stay right in the station house where they could keep an eye on me, and start writing out my confession as soon as the FBI showed up. It only took an hour talking with a detective, his captain, and some one from the DA's office to get them to agree to it. A few days later, your daughter and her team were there."

"You said they interviewed you?"

"It's not uncommon for perpetrators to inject themselves into the investigation. They had to be sure that wasn't what was going on."

"I see."

"So, is that enough of an explanation yet?"

"No. Not for the letter. I will, however, tell you why I have it."

He smiled. It was a slight victory, but he shouldn't be surprised. The Ambassador was undoubtedly used to negotiations like this. She made a small concession to keep the lines of communication open. She needed to know about him. Was it just motherly concern? Or was something else at play?

"You see, I'm her next of kin. As well as her health care proxy."

"Proxy?"

"She's in the hospital. You see, a few days ago she started her car and it exploded. They found an explosive device inside."

"A pipe bomb?"

"Something like that."

"Liam Doyle."

"You know that name?"

"Yes. Is she conscious?"

"No. She's alive, but she hasn't woken up yet. They're keeping her in a medical coma. But she left me written instructions to give you this letter. She told me you are the only person outside of her team she wants to know about this. She said ..." Elizabeth stopped speaking as two tears ran down her cheeks.

"I can't touch you." He said gently.

"What?"

"If I touch you, the guards will come in and the visit will be over. Otherwise I would touch your hand and tell you it's okay. Take a moment, and let out your grief. I know you love her. And I think she's going to come out of this. No matter what though, I promise you, we'll find the man responsible for this."

"We?"

"I'll get to that. Take a moment. When you're ready, I'll tell you the rest about Emily and me."

"You're taking this well."

"I knew you weren't here because everything was going well. I knew from the moment they told me you were coming to visit me and we would be meeting in here, something was wrong. Now I know what. I have a feeling I know what that letter says. But we'll let that go for right now. First, we need to deal with explaining about me and Emily."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to read that letter until you trust me. And you can't yet. But you will."

"You seem sure of that."

"Emily did. And I'll bet soon you'll see why. But first I need to talk about what happened with the case and how she first came to visit me. Then you'll know what you need to. Because I need you to trust me."

"Why?"

"Because this time, her team won't be enough. Neither will INTERPOL."

"You know about INTERPOL."

"Yes."

"You think you can find him?"

"I think I'm the only one who will bring him in."

"Why?"

"Because I have my own set of rules. And FBI rules won't work this time. And I might need your help to do it."

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. They she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Continue, Mr. Brewster."

* * *

_A/N: In the next chapter, we'll learn more about the Philadelphia case and see the team begin their own investigation of Liam Doyle._


	3. Philadelphia

_Disclaimer: see chapter 1_

_A/N: I originally was going to have Emily and Franklin meet during Season 5, but I have since decided they meet a little after the events of the season 4 episode "Demonology" This chapter focuses on the case when they met.

* * *

_**Chapter 3: Philadelphia**

_March 2011_

_Lewisburg, PA _

The Ambassador looked at Franklin. "So, Mr. Brewster, tell me how this began."

"Well, like I said, I made a deal with the police. Still, I was nervous. I'm not exactly a law abiding citizen, so going to law enforcement doesn't come easily to me. Truth be told, if I had any idea how to find this guy, I would have done it and the killed the bastard. Instead, I was waiting in the police station waiting to see the FBI."

* * *

_2009 _

_Philadelphia_

The members of the BAU walked into the police station. They were greeted by a tall, lean man with close cropped hair, wearing glasses with circular frames.

"Are you the FBI?" he asked.

"We're from the Behavioral Analysis Unit," JJ said. "I'm Agent Jareau. Are you Det. Wallace?

"No. Franklin Brewster," he said holding his hand out. She accepted his hand and shook it.

"Come over here and I'll introduce you to Det. Wallace." He guided them over to the bullpen. "Det. Wallace? The FBI's here."

Wallace was a big, beefy guy with black hair, with just a touch of gray in spots. He sighed a weary sigh,"Didn't I tell you to stay put, Frankie? Let me handle this."

"Of course. I'm just helping. You should never be too proud to accept help. I'll be over in that nice little room you set aside for me."

* * *

"A room?" The Ambassador asked.

"Yeah, they set me up in one of the interrogation rooms. They set me up there with a few legal pads, pens and pencils, and a cot. I think they just wanted me in a room where I could write everything down and they could keep an eye on me. Anyway, I started writing my confession. A little while later Emily and another agent, Rossi, came in the room."

* * *

"So, I understand you knew some of the victims," Rossi said.

"Yes."

"So, we were hoping you could tell us about them."

"What do you want to know?"

"How you knew them?"

"We travel the same social circles. We know a lot of the same people. I assume Det. Wallace told you about me."

"He said you wanted us to come."

"I could see your expertise was needed. Rossi, is it?"

"Yes. David Rossi."

"I think I read one of your books. I thought you retired."

"I came back. Let's talk about you."

"I see. This is where you try to figure out if I'm the killer, right?"

"We're just trying to learn about the victims."

"You have tons of files and pictures out there," Brewster pointed towards the wall. "But you don't know if I'm one of those, what do you call them? An organized offender, right? The kind that likes to insert themselves in the investigation? That's fine. Just, tell me the others are working on other things right now."

"We're all working on finding whoever did this."

"Just tell me I'm not their sole focus right now."

"What does that matter?"

"I'm the only one who cares about them. When I talked to the police before, they just wanted to ask me about what they think I've done wrong, not who killed them. Tell me, I'm not your only suspect or I'm invoking my right to an attorney right now."

"We're just talking."

"No. You don't just talk to people Agent Rossi. You're investigating a crime. Several crimes, you don't just talk to people. This is an interrogation. I may be many things, but stupid isn't one of them."

"Mr. Brewster," Emily said,"I promise you the rest of the team is investigating other angles. We just need to talk to you. I understand your frustration, but we're here to catch whoever did these things. I promise you, we will find him."

"That's I what I wanted to hear. So, what exactly do you want to know?"

"We need to see what they have in common."

"Outside of not no one will miss them, I don't know."

"Did you know any of them?"

"Most of them. Not well, but I knew them."

"What about the last victim," Emily said. "Det. Wallace said you found her." She put a folder down in front of him. She opened it, and Franklin closed it.

"Don't show me those."

"I'm sorry?" she said.

"I don't want to see those pictures. Those pictures aren't Sandra. Those pictures are what that son of a bitch did to her. I don't want to see her like that." He looked at Rossi. "You want to know about her? She was a prostitute. She was Catholic. She went to Mass every morning. She always wore a crucifix. She had a pimp who used to beat her up."

"Used to?"

"I broke his jaw a few months ago. He stays away from her now. She was my friend. She used to shoot up, but she's been clean four two weeks. She liked Jay Leno. Is that what you wanted to know?"

* * *

"What I didn't know," Franklin told the Ambassador,"was that the file was a test."

"A test?"

"They had the beginnings of a profile at that point. There's actually a term for killers like this, house cleaners. They kill because they think they're making the world a better place. They would want to see the pictures. It would be a way to relive the kill, and reliving the kill give them a sexual release. I didn't know it, but not wanting to see the pictures eliminated as a suspect. After that interrogation, I didn't see them until later in the day, when they were working out the profile. I was there when they presented it to the police."

"They let you listen?"

"I didn't ask permission. I wanted to hear."

"Why?"

"I was curious. But more importantly, I wanted to know if I would know who the profile could fit."

"Did you?"

"No. Of course, I was distracted near the end."

"Why?"

"I had a visitor. A local gangster by the name of Tony Salas. Everyone called him Big Tony. He had some choice words for me."

* * *

"What the fuck are you thinking?"

Big Tony was a 6 foot tall, broad shouldered, bulky Hispanic man, and he was trying to use his massive girth to intimidate Franklin Brewster.

"Is there a problem Tony?" Brewster seemed amused by Tony's efforts.

"The police and the FBI are asking all kinds of questions, and I heard you're the reason the FBI is here!"

"Who did you hear that from?"

"It doesn't matter. I also heard you're confessing. You're telling them everything. What the fuck do you think is going to happen when you do that?"

"What's the matter Tony? Are you afraid I'll tell them everything I know about you and yours?"

"You do and you're dead. How dare you betray us."

"Betray you? I don't know you mean. Aren't you the one who said it's law of the jungle? Survival of the fittest? Isn't that what you said when I came to you? When I said someone killing people we know?"

"That's what this is about? You dumb motherfucker."

"I'll tell you what Tony, I'm still writing out my confession. So far, I haven't implicated anyone else. Is everyone helps the police and the FBI catch the killer, it'll stay that way. You keep being an asshole, like you are right now, and I will hand deliver the whole fucking lot of you to both the police and the FBI. Then we'll see who's the fittest. You can go now."

Big Tony glared at him, then Agents Rossi and Prentiss came in the room.

"Are we interrupting something?" Rossi asked.

"Not at all," Brewster said. "My friend Tony here, was just expressing how much he would like to help you all. Weren't you Tony? Tell Agents Rossi and Prentiss here how much."

"You're an asshole." Tony said.

"And then some."

* * *

"Did he help?" The Ambassador asked.

"He did. Twenty-four hours later, the killer was in custody. It was a really good day for me."

"Did you talk to him?"

"She told you, didn't she?"

"No. Emily has never told me anything about you. However, it seems to me that given how much you cared about at least one of the victims, you would want some contact. Even some revenge."

Brewster smiled. "You're right. I made sure the little putz and I had a talk."

"Little?"

" It turns out the guy was scrawny. Most of the victims were either women or small. He attacked them from behind, knocked them out, then bound them up in his van when he killed them."

* * *

The man's name was Lawrence James. He was in the bullpen, waiting to be booked, when he felt himself being grabbed from behind, and almost thrown into an interrogation room. Brewster slammed the door closed and jabbed a chair in the door so it couldn't be opened.

"So, you're the bastard who killed my friends." Brewster said.

"They deserved it," Lawrence said. It was an odd kind of monotone, and it just served to spark anger in Franklin Brewster.

"Let's talk about what you deserve." Franklin grabbed him by his shirt and threw him against a wall. Then another one. Then he grabbed Lawrence by his neck, staring him in the eyes. "What you deserve is to be cut into little pieces you sick fuck. But this will have to do." Franklin spun the man around, applying pressure to the man's neck. Then he grabbed hold of the mans hand and pulled down hard, pulling the man's should out of it's socket. Lawrence screamed in pain.

"Did that hurt?" Brewster said in a mocking tone. He threw the man down, put his foot on the man's lower arm, then pulled the rest of the arm up hard until he heard the bones crack. That was about the time the police officers busted the door in.

* * *

"Did you enjoy that?" The Ambassador asked.

"That's what she asked. Right after it happened, your daughter asked me that same question."

"What did you say?"

"Not as much as I thought I would."

"What did you hope to accomplish?"

"A little revenge, I guess." He looked a little to her left, and his eyes seemed sad.

"What is it?"

'Nothing. It's nothing."

"No, you got a look in your eye. What are you thinking about?"

"After it was over, after I gave them my confession, your daughter visited me in prison. A custodial interview, is what she called it. She was studying me, learning about me and other criminals. She kept coming and asking me all kinds of questions over several months. About my childhood, my past, the things I did, I choices I made. There was this one visit, it's when things started to change.

* * *

"Why do you keep coming here?" Brewster asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Agent Prentiss, there have got to be criminal more interesting than me. I'm not a serial offender or any kind of a sadist. What, exactly do expect to learn from me?"

"All human behavior increases our knowledge. Take you for example. You are a career criminal who gave up your freedom so the FBI would come in and arrest a killer."

"Someone I tried to kill."

"No, you didn't. You attacked him, dislocated his should and broke he arm. You could have just as easily broke his neck if you wanted to."

"Maybe I wanted him to suffer first."

"Then you didn't do a very good job of torturing him. He recovered relatively quickly. After the attack they found you had three knives on you. When didn't you stab him?"

"I didn't feel like it."

"I don't think you wanted to kill him. I think you didn't intend to do anything, it was just an impulsive act."

"So what?"

"It makes me wonder what would have happened if you weren't interrupted."

"I would have broken more bones, what does it matter?"

"I want to know how violent you wanted to be. I want to know how far you were about to fall."

"I'm a monster Agent Prentiss, that's all there is to it."

"Not really. Most of the men I study, they blame everyone else for what they do. Not you. When we've talked, you always accept blame for what you did. That's unusual. Take away most of your criminal activities, you're a decent man."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do this. Don't tell me I'm a good person. I'm not. Don't try to convince yourself that I am. Whatever you think you're doing, it's a mistake. I'm not worth the trouble."

"Yes you are."

* * *

A tear rolled down his cheek. "Can we not talk for a while Ambassador? I ...I'd like to not talk for a while.

"You don't have to talk. Just listen. I think I need to read her letter to you." She puller out an envelope and unfolded a piece of paper. She put on a pair of reading glasses and began reading.

_Dear Franklin,_

_If you're reading this, then something has happened. Most likely, Ian Doyle has hurt me. I need you to know a few things._

_First, I love you. I mean it. I really do love you and I believe in you. You want to believe you are a monster, but you really aren't. You've done some bad things in your life, but that doesn't make you a monster. You feel remorse for some of the things you did. I know you aren't a monster._

_I need you to remember the promises you made to me. I want you to do nothing right now. Don't go after Doyle. Don't try to escape. What you need to do is let go of darkness. You need to be a good person. Doyle will have a lot of people looking for him. You just need try to be a good person._

_There is only one thing I need you to do. My mother will be trying to be strong. Whatever happens, promise you will tell her how much I love her and how sorry I am for not sharing much with her. If I'm dead, she will need someone to talk to. I want you to tell her about us. I want you to let her know all the things I couldn't tell her. You know most my secrets. Tell them to her._

_Remember, always, I love you._

_Emily_

Neither Franklin nor Elizabeth spoke for several minutes.


End file.
